Paris, and the beauty of her at his side to the beauty
of Argive Helen.

The Captain loosed his bow at the chariot, and leaning forward watched
the flight of the shaft. It rushed straight at Helen's breast, then of a
sudden turned aside, harming her not. And as he marvelled she lifted
her face and looked towards him. Then he saw and knew her for that Helen
whom he had seen while he served with Cretan Idomeneus in the Argive
ships, when the leaguer was done and the smoke went up from burning
Ilios.

Again he looked, and lo! on the Wanderer's golden shield he saw the
White Bull, the device of Paris, son of Priam, as ofttimes he had seen
it glitter on the walls of Troy. Then great fear took him, and he lifted
up his hands and cried aloud:

"Fly, ye Achaeans! Fly! Back to your curved ships and away from this
accursed land. For yonder in the chariot stands Argive Helen, who is
long dead, and with her Paris, son of Priam, come to wreak the woes
of Ilios on the sons of those who wasted her. Fly, ere the curse smite
you."

Then a great cry of fear rose from the host of the Achaeans, as company
called to company that the ghosts of Paris of Ilios and Argive Helen led
the armies of Pharaoh on to victory. A moment they gazed as frightened
sheep gaze upon the creeping wolves, then turning from the wall, they
rushed headlong to their ships.

Behind them came the soldiers of Pharaoh, storming the walls and tearing
at their flanks as wolves tear the flying sheep. Then the Achaeans turned
at bay, and a mighty fray raged round the ships, and the knees of many
were loosened. And of the ships, some were burned and some were left
upon the bank. But a remnant of them were pushed off into the deep
water, and hung there on their oars waiting for the end of the fray.

Now the sun was gone down, so that men could scarce see to slay each
other. The Wanderer stood his chariot on the bank, watching the battle,
for he was weary, and had little mind to swell the slaughter of the
people of his own land.

Now the last ship was pushed off, and at length the great battle
was done. But among those on the ship was a man still young, and the
goodliest and mightiest among all the host of the Achaeans. By his own
strength and valour he had held the Egyptians back while his comrades
ran the curved ship down the beach, and the Wanderer, looking on him,
deemed him their hardiest warrior and most worthy of the Achaeans.

He stood upon the poop of the sh